Choice
by LOTRRanger
Summary: I hated the choice I was faced with, but I saw no other option. What choice did I have?
1. Choice

_Disclaimer: I own nothing related to X-Men, movie or comic. _

_Ramblings with Ranger: This is a short drabble set in the last scene of X-Men: First Class. This is my take on what Charles was thinking. It was such a great movie, even if they did mess up the Cuban Missile Crisis. Enjoy!  
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Choice

"You're your own team now. It's better. You're X-men." Moira stated as she looked down at me. We had stopped in the gardens of my home. I could see pride in her eyes.

"Yes, I like the sound of that." I paused and looked at her seriously. I know part of her understood what I was about to say, but I needed to make it absolutely clear. "Moira, for us, anonymity will be the first line of defense." She leaned down, her hand on my knee, even though I could not feel her touch.

"I know." Moira stated plainly. "They can threaten me all they want, Charles. I will never tell them where you are. _Ever._"

I could hear her thoughts in my head, even though I was not trying to read her. She had a particularly loud, though not annoying, mind. I knew she was infatuated with me, that she cared for me. Had we known each other longer, I would say she might have even loved me. Perhaps I might have even fallen in love with her, in return. Moira intrigued me – there was no denying it – and she was quite beautiful.

I never enjoyed invading another person's privacy – a person's mind is sacred. Yet I had to protect my new family of mutants. What choice did I have? I hated the choice I was faced with, but I saw no other option. I knew Moira would never willingly betray us, but I knew there were others out there like me. She would never stand a chance against them. Even she had admitted it to herself, privately.

"I know. I know." I murmured. Because I did know, I did understand.

There was no choice, not for me.

Trying my hardest to ignore her alluring thoughts, I pulled her down and gently brushed my lips over her soft, pink ones. I could not deny that I wanted to kiss her. Guilt prickled my conscious that I resorted to sexuality to gain an upper hand.

I could feel my power flow, the familiar tingle spreading through my finger tips.

I erased her memory.

If she discovered my tampering, I knew I would have hell to pay.

But what choice did I have?


	2. Why

_Disclaimer: I own nothing related to X-Men, movie or comic._

_Ramblings with Ranger: This is a short follow-up of Choice. This is what I imagine Moira might have been thinking after her memory was tampered with. Enjoy!_

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Why

I sat down heavily on my bed and ran a hand through my hair. It felt greasy and grimy between my fingers, but I could not bring myself to care. "Gentleman, this is why the CIA is no place for a woman." The words from earlier in the day echoed in my head. I would be in the typing pool for goodness knows how long, now, but at least I still had a job. It was all because of _him_.

Did Charles really tamper with my memory? Could he really do that? Yes, it seemed he could. There wasn't any other explanation for it. But why had Charles tampered with my memory? I had trusted him. I only remembered flashes, bits and pieces. Mostly I remembered a sweet, fleeting kiss. I remember feeling utterly blissful, as if I had almost loved him, but I could not remember what I had truly felt.

What had I done? What had I known? It must have been something important – vitally important. I hoped he had done it to protect himself and his fellow mutants. I could not blame him for that. I could have even forgiven him if that was why he had done it.

But _why_ was it necessary to tamper with my memory, to make me forget _everything_? He made me so infuriatingly curious as to what I had known, what I had seen. It seems, according to the file, that I was in the thick of the action and was now the only key to what had actually transpired. I hated that I could not remember - not because a file was incomplete, but because I wanted to know what I had been a part of. What if my involvement in the incident put my in harms way? I do not know who exactly to be wary of.

But what could I do? I did not know how to contact Charles – which he, doubtless, fully intended.

I wanted nothing more than to ream him up one side and down the other. He probably hadn't bothered to ask my permission. I don't know if I would ever agree to have my mind messed with.

But why did he do it?

Why didn't he ask me?

Why?


End file.
